The Ghost
#3 of Writing Prompts
Prompt #3.. At least for me it is. I think it's really around #30 something.
This prompt theme is: "Souls in the afterlife can be killed, but where do they go after that?"
Hope you enjoy it.
The Ghost
New York City, 1983
The last of the workers were clearing out of the high-rise for the night when the two entered the lobby. At the front of the group stood Booker, an older lion. He was the planner, a real veteran to this sort of thing. He didn't look at all nervous as the security guards searched his briefcase. Behind him was a crow who went by Grimms. He was their seer. All he had on him was a deck of playing cards(all aces) and a couple blank Polaroids. The two were in tailored suits. Trailing behind them was a tired thin looking wolf the other two called Robbie. He was younger than the other two. A prodigal summoner. He had a couple filled paper bags from a local grocery store. He kept his distance from the others. He dressed casually. A cheap suit they picked up at a second hand store.
Booker nodded to the security guard as he looked through his suitcase. The guard looked through the old newspapers, giving the lion a confused look.
"Some research. Trends, business stuff." He frowned, "I'm gonna be honest, I'm a little behind." He laughed, and the guard shrugged and let him pass.
The crow was looked over. The punk never looked right in a suit. He simply shrugged, "New suit, still getting the feel for it." The guard rolled his eyes, ushering him through the metal detector. He looked nervous as he was searched more carefully. The guard started looking back to the phone at his desk.
Robert's heart began to beat rapidly. Grimms was going to fuck this up for them. He was half way through formulating a plan when Booker gave a frustrated sigh, "Could you hurry this up? I'd like to get out of here before the sunrise."
"We have to check him, sir." The guard stated.
Booker glared at him, "He's fine! Let him through." He stared into the guard's eyes. The guard met his gaze, his expression fell from his face. He just nodded and walked back to his desk. Grimms walked over to the elevators.
Robert was next. His looked just as awkward as the other over the strange exchange. Robert passed over his reagents for the rat to search through.
"What an asshole, right?" Robert stated, looking over to the elevators.
The guard shook off the spell, looking offended, "Yeah, what was his problem?"
"Long day, I guess." Robert shrugged, easing the guard through the post spell blues. He took some banana's from his bag, ripping one off to offer it. The guard looked at it a moment before taking it. Potassium is good for getting over spells. Even if he didn't know it, his body did.
Robert grabbed his things, and headed towards the elevators, "You're doing great. Don't let that dick get under your skin." He smiled at the guard. It did pretty well to perk the guard up.
The other two were waiting for the right door to open when Robert caught up with them. They ignored him, as they planned. It took some time before the correct doors to open. When someone would hold the door for them, Booker was always quick with a, "We'll catch the next one, thank you." and smile at them. They would never remember his face.
The elevator they needed was haunted, and never stopped in the right places in the right order. With a friendly chime, the doors opened. The three stepped in, the doors closing violently behind them. Before Booker could press a single button on the panel the car jolted upward.
"We're doing these guys a favor, if you ask me." Grimms stated, as he gathered a few Polaroids from his pocket as Robert began having a coughing fit.
Booker laughed, "That doesn't make as much money."
"But It'd be so much easier.." Grimms said, looking up at a small camera nestled harmlessly in the corner of the small box. One of the bags slipped from Robert's hands. Spilling his groceries onto the floor.
Grimms took some tape and stuck the film against the camera. He pulled back, revealing his middle finger as if his original intention was to flip off the guard. The spell was imperfect, but it would work if they didn't do anything too far from the illusion. The guards would see the two men talking as the wolf picked up his things. The reality was that Robert was setting up a spell. He put the parts he didn't need back into the bag. Everything else was needed for the ritual. The room they needed to get into was locked with an alarm. Even turning the alarm off would alert someone that something had happened. The guards and the cameras could be manipulated, hexed. But there was no spell yet that could stop the alarm from sending a signal of any kind. A ghost could get in without a trace.
Robert lit the candles, drew the circle on the floor with the decayed remains of the man they were summoning. He went over his notes. He cleared his throat, and took a deep breath.
"Ghost of this haunt, reveal yourself to me." There was silence as Robert spoke.
Booker turned around, "Something's wrong." He looked around the room, "There's anger."
Robert sighed, "Shit, hold on."
"What is it?" asked Booker.
Robert went over the spell circle, changing some of the symbols in a rushed erratic way, "He didn't die of a heart attack.." He cleaned the muck from the ground, replacing it with a new spell, "He was murdered."
"Easier to call angry spirits." Booker nodded.
Robert nodded, "harder to bind. I need blood."
Booker took a knife from his pocket, holding at towards Robert. Robert looked up at Booker, a guilty look spreading across his face, "I need clean blood. Mine's.. no good."
Booker's face grew stern, "Oh.. I see." Without hesitation he cut his palm.
"Woah, this is getting a little dark, guys." Grimms stared at the two, "We're getting into blood stuff?"
Robert let the blood drip onto his fingers, "Angry ghosts are harder to wrangle. A normal binding won't do." He spread the blood around his new spell, "The price must be higher."
"Blood magic never ends well. This is how demons are-"
Booker gave Grimms a shove, then whispered, "Quiet! Let him do it."
The crow stepped back, turning towards the door.
Robert sighed, taking a deep breath, "Carl Cunningham, I summon you." The elevator stopped abruptly, the lights began to flicker. The two went silent as Robert began whispering the spell, almost silently. The form of Carl Cunningham, the accountant that once worked here began to materialize. The greasy old badger looked around the room, glowing faintly, incorporeal. Robert stood up to face the ghost.
"I have called you here to serve me." Robert spoke slowly.
The ghost of Carl Cunningham looked conflicted, trying to resist, "What do you need?"
A sigh of relief escaped Robert, "Stay with me for now. I will ask more of you later." The elevator lurched upwards again. The group turned towards the door as the lights came back on. They rode the rest of the way in silence. As the doors slid violently open on their desired floor, Booker pulled the emergency stop on the car before stepping out. Grimms stepped out beside him. The floor didn't have cameras, but a few of the doors in the hallway were armed with alarms. Grimms took out a pile of aces from his pocket. He fanned them out like a magician would, holding them down the hall.
"Alrighty, which of you belonged to piggy.." Grimms looked intently at the cards, one carried a weight of a large win. He just didn't know which. They throw them all away at the same time. He focused on the cards, glancing at each door. He thought about the safe they wanted to get into. The money it had in it. Trying to keep the emotion of greed in his heart and he stared at the fan of aces. He took a deep breath, then exhaled. One of the aces began to wiggle. It pulled him towards a door. He followed the weak force pulling him until he stopped at a door. They stood in front of the door. Grimms ran his talons up and down it, his eyes closed, deep in concentration.
"The alarm system in beside the door." He pointed to a spot just right of the door, "Right here. The safe in is down here..Pretty big, too." He pointed towards the floor.
Booker nodded to Robert, who snapped. The form of Carl surfaced again. Robert held out his hands, downward, "Hold out your hands." The ghost mirrored him. Robert breathed deep positioning his hands below the ghosts, holding them up towards the other's.
"I need you to let go a little of your force to me. Try to breach to me. Only a little." Robert spoke slowly, confidently.
The ghost looked uncomfortable as tendrils of a milky substance began to form from his fingers. It drooped towards the ground. Booker opened his briefcase, taking out an old newspaper. It had bronze colored scribbles across the underside. He shaped it into a cone and held it under the ectoplasm.
Grimms looked over to the others, speaking in harsh whispers, "What the fuck?! I thought we just needed him to go in?"
Booker continued collecting the substance, "It's no different than collecting blood."
"Yeah, and I don't use blood for magic, either." Grimms replied.
Booker shrugged, "And how do you suggest we get the money out of the safe? Even if out friend here can get in without an issue."
"I.. Don't know." Grimms lowered his head silently.
Booker nodded towards Robert, "That's enough."
"Thank you, Mr. Cunningham, that's good for now." Robert stated to the ghost.
Booker crumpled the top of the paper, then snipped the cone's tip. He spread some of the viscous substance evenly in a small circle next to where Grimms pointed to the safe. There was a subtle glow to the applied area. Booker gripped the paper delicately as he pushed his hands through the wall. After a minute he pulled a crumpled ball of newspaper and tossed it into his briefcase. With a grin he shoved his hands back through the wall. He worked quickly, taking wads of cash and other valuables to their side of the wall. Grimms and Robert worked on sorting it into three equal piles. They weren't going to regroup any time soon. With no signs of guards or police, they continued for almost an hour. When he was done, Booker took a small flashlight from his pocket, pushing it through the wall, then pulled it back. He turned it back on, the purple light caused the ectoplasm to evaporate immediately. Booker looked over the haul as it was all split between them and put into the duffle bags he had placed in his suitcase. He looked over to the ghost, then to Robert.
"Robert, could you get me some more ectoplasm?" Booker reached into his briefcase, taking out more of the old newspaper.
Robert stammered, "I uh.. I think so.. how much more?"
"All of it." Booker replied.
"No! You can't do that!" Grimms flung the duffle bag over his shoulder effortlessly.
Booker ignored Grimms, "I can help you with things money can't."
"We planned to send him to the other side, not put him in limbo." Grimms pleaded.
"It's my understanding that it is my blood that bound him, correct?" Booker turned to the ghost, "Come to me, Mr. Cunningham."
The ghost floated towards him, stopping at Booker's side. The lion pulled a small clay pot from his briefcase, covering it with the newspaper. He held the open pot up to the ghost.
"I demand your force. Give to me everything." Booker demanded.
"You can't do this! Robert, you can stop this! It's still your spell!" Grimms yelled.
Robert looked over to the elevator as the same fluid began dripping into the pot in Booker's hands.
Booker shook his head, "How sick are you, Robbie? Will this money cure you?"
Robert turned to Booker, "There.. There is no cure."
Booker grinned, "There is always a cure, but there is always a price."
Grimms shook his head, "This is murder."
"He's already dead, Grimms." Booker stated.
"You know what I mean!"
Booker looked over to Grimms as he reached into his pocket to get his flashlight. He pointed it towards Grimms like a weapon, "Just walk away, Grimms. The job is done and you've been paid."
Grimms stared at the device hesitantly. He sighed heavily, shaking his head as he turned around towards the stairs.
He flipped the others off and spat, "Fuck you both. Don't call me." as he headed down the dark hallway.
Robert watched as the ghost shivered as the pot filled with it's life force. The elevator was stuck open behind him. He stared at spell circle on the floor of the small chamber.
"What are you going to do with all this?" Robert asked Booker.
Booker shrugged, "Not sure yet. But I do like to prepare."
"What's going to happen to him?" He shrugged towards the ghost.
"True nothingness for eternity." Booker stated.
"Will he know it?"
"I have no idea."
"I..Uh.. Dunno.." Robert looked back to the elevator.
"I know a guy, he can make some deals. Anything you want. You won't go unrewarded, Robert. Cause and effect can be reversed, revised and manipulated to your bidding." Booker grinned, extracting the last of the ghost. There was nothing left to atmosphere of the hallway as Booker closed a lid over the pot. He tied the pot closed with twine in a hurry, then shoved the container into his bag with his money.
He looked over to Robert, handing him the sealed pot, "What do you say?"
Robert looked over the contained soul in his hands. He could drop it, let the goop inside reform as the ghost of Carl Cunningham again in time. He closed his eyes and handed the pot back, "Where do we go from here?"